


Picture perfect

by FreddieFoxBaxter



Series: TK Strand Week 2020 [3]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Nude Photos, TK Strand Week 2020, pretty boy tk strand, silly fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreddieFoxBaxter/pseuds/FreddieFoxBaxter
Summary: TK bitterly swallowed, cornered. He glanced at the underwear laying on the kitchen table. He didn't want pictures of his dad in briefs going around either.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: TK Strand Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997548
Comments: 2
Kudos: 89





	Picture perfect

**Author's Note:**

> **TK Strand Week 2020**  
>  **Day 3:** "I can't believe you dragged me into this"
> 
> Come on, we all know an episode like this was coming, I chose to write it myself to be ready for the real one.

“ **I can't believe you** guys  **dragged me into this** ,” TK groaned, studying the very-close-to-indecent outfits Mateo and Marjan picked up for him to choose from.

“Oh, come on,” Mateo replied, “it's for a good cause!”

“Why don't  _ you _ do it, then?”

Marjan intervened before Mateo could answer.“Because he is already the marketing director, he can't do everything by himself,” she explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. TK rolled his eyes at her patronizing tone.

“Which reminds me,” she then said, “how are we on our selling strategy?”

“All set,” Mateo nodded, “We are going with the  _ Girl Scout Strategy _ .”

Paul raised his eyes from his book. “Are we selling cookies now?”

“Oh no,” Mateo paled, “they have that market covered, and you don't want to get on their bad side, trust me,” he shivered, his comment gaining him several confused looks, but he refused to explain further. Marjan shot him a last glance, “See, he already has a lot on his plate, we need you, pretty boy.”

“Why can't Paul do it?”

“Because I ain't no  _ pretty boy _ ,” he shrugged, “if you need a handsome dude, I'm your guy, but a pretty boy? Not so much.”

Judd's voice came from the sofa, “Damn right.”

“What about Judd?” TK offered as his last hope, but Marjan shook her head before he had finished his sentence.

“We thought about that, but do you want to be the one to tell Grace why there are pictures of her husband in his underwear all over the city?”

TK stared at her wide-eyed. No, he did not want to do that.

“See?” Marjan sighed, “It's either you or your dad. You pick.”

TK bitterly swallowed, cornered. He lowered his gaze on the underwear laying on the kitchen table. He didn't want pictures of his dad in briefs going around either. Ready to admit defeat, he sighed.

“Fine,” he groaned, “You guys better outsell all the other stations. What's the theme?”

“I was thinking  _ city boy in the countryside _ ,” Mateo said, gesturing with his hands like he was imagining some big sign.

“I thought it had to be related to the job,” TK dryly replied.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “the second idea is  _ city boy in the fire station _ .”

TK pressed his lips together in a sour expression, staring at Mateo hoping he was kidding, but he blinked back at him, completely sold on his own idea.

“You know there are such things as bad ideas, right?” Paul chuckled, making him pout.

“Let's hear yours, then.”

Paul frowned in the face he made when he used his deduction ability, closing his book to get up and walk around them, studying TK like he was trying to solve the mysteries of the universe.

“We need a picture, the right one, spicy but classy, you know? And original, something that stands out – ” he paused to rub his chin.

“No, sorry, I got nothing.”

“Ugh,” Marjan groaned, “just pick a pair of briefs, I'll think of the rest.”

“Suspenders!” Mateo exclaimed, “Women like suspenders, right? What  _ do  _ women like?”

If looks could kill, the one Marjan shot him would have incinerated him on the spot.

“Probably not a gay man,” TK sneered, by now resigned to his destiny.

“You'd be surprised,” Marjan said, “besides, pretty is pretty.”

He closed his mouth, at a loss of words to throw back at her. She did have a point.

He sighed once again, caressing with the tip of his fingers the fabric of the underwear. The green ones were nice, he guessed.

“Just tell me where you want me,” he said, picking them up.

As a red-blooded gay man, TK had the fantasy of being naked with a bunch of dudes before, but reality didn't quite live up to it. First of all, his fantasy was an all-men scenario, second, the men were more the daddy-in-a-suit rather than giggling-frat-boy kind of guys. And, more importantly, there were no women barking orders.

Having Marjan taking pictures of him in his underwear wasn't as bad as he thought. It was way worse.

At the end of the shooting, there was no inch in the whole station they didn't cover. She made him stand, sit, and lay down in every place she could think of, taking suggestions from the others that followed them around. His muscles hurt from all the poses she made him stand in, his patience running hair thin as she still wasn't happy with the results.

“The last one, I promise,” she said, fixing his position at the bottom of the stairs. TK had nothing more to give, so he stared at her, exhausted and defeated, his lips pressed together, and a stern look in his eyes. He didn't believe her, no light at the end of the tunnel for him.

**oOo**

“Please, don't laugh,” TK groaned resting his cheek on the table, as Carlos glanced at the pictures Marjan dropped before him, asking him to vote for the best one.

“Not laughing,” Carlos said, “not laughing at all.”

TK peeked at him through his lashes, intrigued by the sparkle in his voice, and bursting into laughter when Carlos winked at him as he fanned himself with one of the pictures.

“How come there are no pictures with the pole?”

“There were, we took plenty,” TK spat, “but they all turned out awful.”

He closed his eyes, grimacing at the soft chuckle shaking his boyfriend's shoulders.

“How come this doesn't bother you? Marjan will sell as many as these postcards as possible.”

Carlos blinked at him, hesitating before giving him an answer.

“Well,” he shrugged, “When you date a sexy firefighter, a bit of attention sort of comes with the territory...”

TK snorted, blushing at the compliment. “Yeah, but this?”

Carlos lowered his gaze on the photo he was pointing at. “Well, this is going to draw  _ a lot _ of attention.”

“Mmh,” TK hummed his assent as he peeked at the picture one more time.

“Almost all the votes are in, Carlos, what do you say?” Marjan asked walking up to their table in the corner of the bar.

“It's tough, TK looks great in all of them,” Carlos said with a sheepish smile.

“Good luck getting an answer out of him, he is too smitten to choose just one pic,” Michelle joined them, wrapping her arm around Marjan's shoulders, a bottle of beer in her hand and a smirk curling her lips, untouched by the fire glance Carlos shot her.

“He has to vote,” Marjan groaned, “we are deadlocked in a tie!”

Carlos sighed. “Up to me then – ”

He picked up the final two pictures, studying them more closely; TK pressed his lips together to quash the chuckle in his throat at the amusement lighting up Carlos' eyes.

“Then I'll keep this for myself, and you can use this one,” he finally said, handing back the winning photo as he hid the other one in his pocket. TK couldn't refrain himself anymore and snorted at Carlos' eyebrow-lift.

Michelle nodded peeking at the chosen picture. “Good choice, I voted for this one too.”

“Ugh, I still prefer the one he stole,” Marjan insisted as she put her arm around her hips, “you were right, I owe you a beer.”

“Good choice, indeed, you are a man of taste,” TK chuckled once they were alone again.

“You know it,” Carlos smirked, gently squeezing his thigh under the table, as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips, a promise of more things to come.


End file.
